


Yeastman

by Kahvi, Roadstergal



Category: Robot Series - Isaac Asimov
Genre: Case Fic, Detectives, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Murder, Other, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Robotics, Robots, Sexual Tension, Shame, Smoking, Three Laws of Robotics, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: Earth days are never dull, and Lije is never lacking in cases.  He still never knows what to do about that creature that looks like a man, is a robot, and acts like a friend.An old fic that Kahvi and I have dusted off and put on the fresh new AO3 mantel.





	1. Chapter 1

All good things must end, Fastolfe pondered. Odd that he had come to think of Spacetown as a 'good thing.' Most Spacers considered it a travesty - Spacers compelled to live in such close proximity to an Earth city? Only a few walls away from this teeming mass of not-quite-humanity, a cockroach-like offshoot that bred disease as they scuttled through their miserable little lives? Fastolfe had thought something similar, once. But Earthmen - they were different from what he expected. Rougher, shorter-lived, but tough - and some of them, amazingly insightful. Like the plainclothesman Daneel had worked with.  
  
There was nothing for it, though. Spacetown was being disassembled. Fastolfe put the well-wrapped HPLC column, the last of the large laboratory supplies, into a box with a sigh. "Ah, it's good to have you here to help me out," he told Daneel, who had tirelessly (of course) helped him to disassemble and pack away all of the laboratory supplies. "I'm too old to do this by myself!" he added with a wink. Old? Ah, only by Earth standards. By those, he was ancient. How terrible it would be to have such a short life!  
  
R. Daneel Olivaw was sorting cables into a box, working meticulously. The speed of his fingers and hands was far beyond that which any human being would be capable of as they deftly coiled the transparent, delicate strands used to ferry data where wireless transfers were impractical or too much of a security risk. "I am glad to have been of service," he said, his voice clear and measured, like the length of the coils slotting neatly into place with his movements.  
  
"Yes; we built you that way, didn't we?" Poor Sarton. He would have been so proud of Daneel! Well, certainly it was Fastolfe who had made the positronic breakthroughs, but the miracle of engineering that was Daneel would not have been possible without Sarton's contribution. Fastolfe cut short his musings as he sat down at his computer. The last part of the breakdown would be electronic, and _he_ would have to do it.  
  
The last cable fit in perfectly with its neighbors, naturally, as Daneel had carefully calculated how to position them all to make the most of the available space before he began the task. The result, it seemed to him, was somewhat aesthetically pleasing, harmonious. One could not program into a robot a sense of style, beauty or indeed any other sort of judgment that was not mathematical or logical in its nature, but Daneel _had_ been programmed in such a manner as to facilitate _learning_ how to make such judgments. Lately, he had noticed in himself a tendency to do, and want to do so, rather frequently. His task accomplished, Daneel turned to look calmly at Fastolfe. "Do you require further assistance?"  
  
Fastolfe scratched his ear and frowned. "I wish I could say yes." His voice was tired, in anticipation of the exhausting task ahead of him. "But I have to do this myself. Archiving the data before the computer systems are disassembled. Nobody can see this data but me."  
  
"I understand, doctor Fastolfe. I shall remain in the adjacent complex helping with the sorting of the main library should you need me again."  
  
Fastolfe raised his eyebrows. What a use for that marvel of engineering! "Come now, Daneel - the standard robots can help with _that_."  
  
This was true, of course, but Daneel did not see how this meant that he should _not_ help. Nonetheless, he extrapolated from experience - as he had been programmed to do - that Fastolfe's statement meant that he did not want Daneel to engage in that particular task, and stopped in mid-stride. There remained then, the question of what he should do. "There is nothing else that requires my particular abilities at the moment."  
  
Fastolfe turned to look squarely at Daneel. Yes, a perfect copy of a human being, to all appearances. A near-perfect copy overall! And Spacers could not enter the Cities, after all. Fastolfe tapped his finger on his chin, thoughtfully. "Why don't you pay a visit to the City?"  
  
"The City, doctor Fastolfe?" This was unexpected. What was also unexpected was the onslaught of memories that became instantly available to Daneel at the mention of that word. He had had summoned them from long-term storage without giving much thought to the matter. Memories of orderly buildings teeming with masses of human beings, constantly moving, masses of manipulators nagging at his First and Second Law imperatives. And one manipulator in particular.  
  
Ah, even his facsimile of surprise was perfect. "Yes. This might be our last chance to observe the Earthers at close quarters, after all."  
  
Dwelling on those particular memories a nanosecond longer than he normally would have, Daneel replied, "Yes. You are quite right, of course." This too, was his function - to move among the people of Earth without fear of illness. Without fear, or any other human emotion, in fact. To study. To learn.  
  
That hesitation, one most would not even notice, spoke volumes to Fastolfe. He looked keenly at Daneel. "Potential-wise, how does that strike you?"  
  
Daneel considered. There was much potential in this, from many different points of view. However, in this calculation, there seemed to be a hitherto unknown quality, one Daneel could only categorize as _personal preference_. "Might I be frank with you, doctor?"  
  
Fastolfe flashed a smile. "I order you to be frank with me."  
  
"In that case, I must tell you that I find it... disagreeable that Spacetown is to be no more."  
  
Fastolfe bent forward to observe all of the small signs that spoke so eloquently to someone with his roboticist background. "Why, Daneel?"  
  
Knowing from experience that Fastolfe would not want a complete list of all the reasons Daneel could see or potentially see, he presented a neat summary. "We have much to learn from the Earthers, and they from us. Without Spacetown, this will be difficult."  
  
Fastolfe nodded. "Yes; it will certainly hinder my goals."  
  
"Indeed. And so, I should very much like to visit the City. It is important to take advantage of every opportunity we have to observe the people here." Why the memory of one person in particular intrigue him so? Daneel found himself browsing through those long-term files yet again, pondering this question.  
  
The robot was amazing, Fastolfe decided. He could make independent decisions requiring conception of complex possibilities. It was what Fastolfe expected, after all, but to see it in action - it was beautiful! This robot would be wasted sorting out the library. He was made for bigger things. Fastolfe nodded, feeling pride flood him as he looked at Daneel.  
  
The world, to Daneel, was a series of smoothly laid out paths. He was never in any doubt about where he was going, or what he was doing or supposed to do. Logic and his programming dictated it so. Sometimes, the path he was on would come to a crossroads, and he would have to make a choice from the options available to him. This he could do independently, but there were always some variable, some integer that made one choice better than the others, if only by a small margin. Now, however, he found himself at a loss. Did Doctor Fastolfe want him to show initiative - to make the choice to go to the city independently? Or did he want Daneel to realize that he was not yet capable of making such choices, or that there was a need for him here in Spacetown that neither of them had anticipated? With Fastolfe, every interaction was a test, a way of measuring Daneel 's abilities. And he was eager to please; he was just not sure how to go about it. One foot had just about left the ground, ready to begin a step that would lead to a walk out of here, but was that the preferred action?  
  
"Then go do so, Daneel. Go speak with the Earthman you partnered with. Plainclothesman Baley, yes? It would only be natural for you to... take your leave, after all. Have him show you around. You learned quite a bit from him, didn't you?" Daneel seemed to have formed an attachment to the Plainclothesman. It was not unheard-of to have attachments form between robots and their owners - he had analyzed some robots, himself, whose potentials were slightly skewed to a given set of inputs that was a single human. Still, the ramifications of such an attachment in such a short time, and in a _humaniform_ robot... Fastolfe watched Daneel keenly, noting a slight relaxation. Baley's name affected the autonomic pathways? Fascinating.  
  
Yes, that was his _preference_. One of the first, if not the very first, he had ever had. The Earth-man had in some way affected his brain so that it favored the memories involving him. Daneel would have asked to see him, had Fastolfe not suggested it himself. How absurd. There was no logic to this _preference_. It merely was. "I was going to suggest the same thing, doctor Fastolfe. Is there anything in particular you would like me to observe while I am there?"  
  
Fastolfe crossed his arms and considers. No, why sully this experiment with his own input? "Nothing in particular. You have good judgment, Daneel. Use it."  
  
Daneel nodded politely. "As you wish." Humans had wishes. That was their nature. Robots did not, and that was theirs... until now, apparently. For Daneel had been the first robot to ever have a wish, and it was about to come true. He was, he contemplated, all in all most fortunate.  
  
"I do!" Fastolfe turned back to computer, feeling a little less tired. He listened to the soft, nearly soundless footsteps of Daneel leaving. He worked almost absently, his mind half on his project, and half on the _possibilities_ of Daneel. He had designed the robot to mimic a human being in order to learn about the human mind - but the human mind does not work in a vacuum. It requires the interaction of other human minds, or pathology sets in. The Spacers, especially Fastolfe, could not help but treat Daneel like a robot. But the Earthman - he struggled with his desire to see Daneel as human. Fastolfe could see as much from the Earthman's visit, from his curiosity about Daneel's physical form, from his attitude towards Daneel in their conversation. Lord, no Spacer would have accused Daneel of being a human in disguise!  
  
It was all, Fastolfe decided, utterly fascinating.

 

* * *

  
  
Elijah Baley, Plainclothesman, newly C-6 by virtue of his service to Earth, was beginning to get a headache. He rubbed his temple with two fingers as he stared at the papers on his desk. The last thing he needed on a Monday morning was a murder case on his desk waiting for him. He tried to remember back to when he had first started, when detective work had an air of glamour. It had none now; he tired of hearing of assaults and murders and blackmails and thefts and all of the other ways humans dreamed up to make each other miserable.  
  
Elijah pulled out his pipe and stuck it between his teeth; tobacco was too dear to waste a ration on just reading the report, but he felt better with it stuck between his teeth. He was certain he could feel the headache recede from just that action.  
  
"Plainclothesman Baley?"  
  
The too-cheerful, too-artificial voice threatened to bring the headache back. Baley looked up, into the inanely grinning face of R. Sammee. "What is it, boy?" he barked.  
  
"You have a visitor, Plainclothesman Baley!"  
  
"Who is it?" Elijah asked. He was not in a mood to see anyone he did not have to.  
  
The robot paused, then repeated, brightly, "You have a visitor, Plainclothesman Baley!"  
  
Elijah groaned. The robot had not asked. He would stand there repeating the message until he had new orders. "Show whoever it is in, you irritating hunk of metal." Elijah looked down at the papers on his desk again, trying to spread them out in a way that made sense.  
  
A polite knock sounded at the door a few minutes later. Yes, one of the benefits of a C-6 rating - an enclosed desk. "What? Come in," Elijah mumbled around his pipe. He had found an order to the papers he rather liked, and was busy putting them in that order before it fled his mind.  
  
Daneel opened the door with due care and stepped in, closing it behind him with the same attention he gave every task. While different tasks did not receive varying degrees of attention, they did require varying processing power, and right now, Daneel's plentiful surplus of processing power was occupying itself with trying to calculate his friend's reaction. Again he was struck, as he had been when they first met, with the inherent unpredictability of the man - Daneel had reached no conclusions by the time Elijah spoke.  
  
"What do you want." Elijah asked the question absently, still focused on his work.  
  
The tone of voice clearly indicated that his friend did not know it was him. Daneel's perfect recall of Elijah's accustomed tone of voice when he spoke to Daneel was far away from this measured, mumbled dullness. Daneel turned and walked forward, his hand extended. "Friend Elijah!" His voice was carefully attuned to sound calm and friendly. His own emotional state could not, of course, be described in human terms, but if pressed, he would admit that calm and friendly would not have been unsuitable substitutions.  
  
The order Elijah had in mind for the papers fled. His head snapped up with a jerk. He saw a dark-skinned man standing in front of his desk, a man with a sharply angular, handsome face. His straight bronze hair, of a type not seen on the dark-skinned people on Earth, was brushed straight back. And though his eyes were brown like his own, their tones were somber mahogany and oak - like something straight of a history book-film - where Elijah's were simply 'dark'. Elijah's mouth fell open; he quickly grabbed for the pipe that fell out of it with his right hand. "Daneel!"  
  
First Law prodded at Daneel as he looked on, worry registering in his face as Fastolfe had painstakingly conditioned it to do in such cases. "Are you all right, Friend Elijah?"  
  
Daneel was going to have to get a little instruction, Elijah thought, if he thought startlement automatically equated with 'unwell.' He stood and started to extend his hand, then noticed that his pipe was still in it. He set the pipe down on the desk, then clasped Daneel's hand. A warm, resilient, very human-like hand. Very human-like indeed. Elijah realized he was grasping it a bit too firmly. "Oh, I was just..." he looked down at his paperwork. "The usual."  
  
"That is good to hear." Daneel looked around. Elijah had not had a personal space such as this one when Daneel saw him last. It could only be due to his promotion, which was as it should be. It seemed to Daneel that his friend should be well taken care of. Well, naturally - this was a First Law concern, but Daneel had taken to calling Elijah 'friend' for a reason - and that same reason now made him concerned with his well-being in a way that went above and beyond even First Law. He had been trying, ever since their last meeting, to discover the precise nature of that reason.  
  
Elijah pulled a chair out of a corner and put it on his side of the desk, before remembering that robots always stood, but Daneel walked over and sat down. Assimilation, Elijah thought. What else about the robot would be different? "What are you here for?"  
  
Eye-contact, Daneel knew, induced reassurance. He kept his eyes on Elijah's, adjusting them to give the appearance of measured interest, which comfortably matched his own state of mind. "As you probably know, Friend Elijah, Spacetown is in the final stages of being dismantled these days. I am here to help oversee the process."  
  
"That's lovely, but there's no Spacetown disassembly being done _here_." Elijah sat, turning his chair to face Daneel. He leaned back, watching the impassive, perfectly straight-backed robot.  
  
"I am well aware of that. However, as my particular skills," Daneel put a slight emphasis on that word, "were not needed at the moment, Doctor Fastolfe suggested I," it was puzzling - Daneel had registered the oddity of it when it happened, but had filed it away for later consideration, "take some time off."  
  
Elijah's mouth quirked in a wry grin. "A robot taking time off?"  
  
Another thing that intrigued him about Elijah - he had a near robot-like sense of logic, although he would probably be insulted if he were told so. Daneel smiled a slight, careful smile. "It is, indeed, not something that is done. However, the analogy seems apt. There is nothing for me to do, so I am free, for a time, to do as I wish."  
  
"Well, I wish I could help you... do as you wish? But I have," Elijah looked at his desk, "a fine mess to sort out." He frowned. "For all that Enderby was a murderer, I think I'll miss him as Commissioner." His replacement was not fond of Elijah, and made no effort to hide that fact.  
  
Such a sense of logic, coupled with an intuition Daneel could never understand, much less match. No wonder Elijah made such an excellent investigator. To see him work on a case would be most interesting. "Are you working on a case, Friend Elijah?"  
  
"Yes." Elijah tapped the papers. "It seems straightforward enough, but the thread is just too tenuous, right now."  
  
"If it is not too presumptuous to ask, perhaps I might be of assistance?" Another thing he _wished_ \- or stronger than that perhaps. Desired?  
  
That offer struck at a very sensitive part of Elijah. A part that did not like the fact that a robot might be so sophisticated that it would take over _his_ job. But no - Daneel had missed critical points on the last case. He did not know how to think like a human - because he _wasn't_ human, no matter how much he looked like one. "I don't need your _help_ , R. Daneel." Elijah stressed the initial before Daneel's name.  
  
"I was not suggesting that you did, Friend Elijah. Only that perhaps there might be some tasks that would be easier to undertake with my assistance."  
  
Elijah lifted an eyebrow. "Tasks?"  
  
"Yes," Daneel replied, calmly. It came to him that he would find it satisfactory to be near Elijah, even if it was just to assist with menial labor.  
  
Elijah shrugged. "I think it's just legwork, at this point." The cough that sounded from Daneel in response was eerily natural. Did he even need to cough? Did things get stuck down that artificial gullet of his?  
  
The statement seemed to invite commentary. "I believe I have been fitted with accurately working legs."  
  
That comment was deadpan enough to fry eggs in. Elijah ignored the attempt at humor. He shuffled through the papers on his desk, picking one up. "A homicide - of _just_ an Earthman, of course." He looked at Daneel's face, attempting to determine how many Spacer prejudices were pre-installed.  
  
" _Just_ an Earthman?" Daneel tilted his head.  
  
"Well, it surely must matter less to you than the Spacer murder."  
  
"If by 'the Spacer murder' you are referring to the murder of Doctor Sarton, which you and I investigated together, then the cases are hardly comparable."  
  
"No." Elijah looked levelly at Daneel, waiting for more.  
  
"The situation surrounding Doctor Sarton's murder would not be likely to occur on Earth, for a number of reasons which I am sure would be self-evident to you. Similarly, there are many murders occurring every day in Earth society that neither would or could happen on a Spacer world. Therefore, a comparison of relative worth would be difficult, if not impossible."  
  
So very logical, and so very beside the point that Elijah was trying to get to. He shook his head. "Right." With a cough, he looked at the sheet he had pulled out. "Victim. Stephan Linkslighter, yeast man. Declassified." Daneel watched with calm interest. Elijah pulled out another sheet. "Prime suspect. Thomas Burner, strip planner. E-5 rating."  
  
Daneel frowned. "Is it common for highly rated citizens to murder those of lower rank?"  
  
"No, and that's what's interesting. The reverse? It happens more than the city administrators would like to admit. A declassified man has little to lose, so it's a low bar of provocation." A slight, an insult, walking in the wrong place at the wrong time - the yeast men were therefore watched carefully when they were in the City. Which made the timing - rather deliberate. "A rated man - especially a _married_ rated man - has more to lose."  
  
Earth society was strange indeed. While its rating system was simple and necessary enough, Daneel could not begin to understand the complex relationship models that existed within it - marriage in particular. It was not like Spacer marriage, which seemed more logical, despite the frequent involvement of illogical emotions such as love. Married couples on Earth stayed together for the entirety of their admittedly short lives, and formed bonds rarely seem among Spacer couples, even to the point of raising their own children. "So I have come to understand."  
  
The expression on Daneel's face - something akin to sadness - caught Elijah's interest, but the robot offered nothing more. Elijah turned back to his desk. "Well..." He paused, leaned back, and laced his fingers over his stomach. "Would you like a summary?"  
  
"Certainly, yes."  
  
"It would help me to go through the facts, as well." Elijah closed his eyes, sorting his facts, and then opened them to look at Daneel as he spoke. "The murder occurred at approximately 02:00 this morning. Almost everyone was in their sleep cycle. There were no direct witnesses. Several people who were in the vicinity of the corridor where it occurred heard a yell. When they arrived, the prime suspect was standing over the victim. The victim was stabbed with a yeast-tine. Do you know what those are?"  
  
"I have read about them." Daneel had read as much as he could about Earth culture since he left the planet. Fastolfe had encouraged him, saying it was natural for him to be curious about the planet of his birth. But while Daneel knew that he was programmed to be curious, to want to learn, he found it odd to experience such a surge of interest about one particular subject. Nevertheless, it would no doubt prove handy should he be allowed to assist Elijah in this case.  
  
Elijah nodded. He was surprised that the Spacers would let their precious robot even know of something as fundamentally Earthbound as yeast cultivation equipment. "Then you know that they're collapsible and that the point, although open for sampling, is quite sharp."  
  
Daneel hastened to correct him. "Actually, I was not aware of that. The book-film image was a static one, and..."  
  
Elijah ran over Daneel's likely ongoing and tangential comment. "It was nine-tenths collapsed, and had stabbed the victim upwards, puncturing the diaphragm and a lung. It very neatly avoided the rib cage. The prime suspect does not deny involvement, but claims that the victim was trying to rob him, and was accidentally stabbed in the fracas."  
  
"And this does not seem plausible?"  
  
"The tine isn't _that_ sharp. You'd have to make an effort to impale someone that completely. The angle was awkward for anything other than a deliberate attempt to avoid the ribcage. Besides, what was Burner doing out at that hour? He has no explanation, and it isn't common to wander the corridors at that time of night. And what was Stephan doing inside? Looking for a City man to rob at a time when they're all abed?" Elijah spread his hands. "I think it's Medievalism."  
  
Another topic which Daneel had studied extensively. It had no counterpart on any of the Spacer worlds - no parallel. It made for fascinating viewing. His face, in response to his mental state, formed a slight, curious frown. "How so?"  
  
"I told you the prime suspect was married. His wife, Cynthia, works as an administrator at Mechanical Men, Inc."  
  
This was very interesting indeed. Potential scenarios and theories began to form rapidly in Daneel's mind. "The Earth producer of robots?"  
  
Oh, Daneel would know _that_ , wouldn't he. "Producer - and strong lobbyist for their expanded use. Expanded use that costs men their jobs and ratings, in many cases. Many declassified men are Medievalists, after all, and they all hate robots." He looked directly at Daneel. "With a passion." Oh, if only they knew how many of them could be replaced by a robot like Daneel. Elijah put his pipe in his mouth again, sucking on the stem.  
  
"Then it is good that I do not look like a robot, Friend Elijah." Or at least not, he added to himself, to someone from Earth. Having experienced this phenomenon before, it did not surprise him how he could move within this massive hive of humanity and have them think he was one of them, but it was no less intriguing. "But it was not this Cynthia who was murdered."  
  
"No," Elijah said around the stem. "But I think that Stephan was _trying_ to murder her. Or assault her, in some fashion. And that Thomas stopped him. It fits the facts far better than an attempted robbery."  
  
"I see." Daneel looked at the pipe. It was present in all his memories of Elijah, as much a part of him as his limbs or voice. Why did he keep it so close, going so far as to suck on it and mimic the motions of usage when it had no practical function? Yet another aspect of the man which invited further study. "And how is that hypothesis working out?"  
  
Elijah shrugged. "I just came to it. That's what I meant by a slender thread - and some legwork yet to do. I just need to tie Stephan to the Medievalists, and try to wrangle some sort of a confession out of Thomas. If that's all there is to it, he's actually not in terrible trouble after all. Murder is murder, but judges consider circumstances." Elijah could put himself in Thomas's shoes, if that were indeed the case. If someone tried to harm Jessie - well, Elijah was not sure exactly what he would do, but the health of the threatener would be of no concern to him.  
  
Very peculiar. It was not like Elijah to jump to conclusions, or at least so Daneel had estimated. Had he been wrong in his judgment of character? He very rarely had been, in his admittedly short span of life. Nevertheless, this merited a question. "Is there any particular reason why you favor this hypothesis over other possibilities?"  
  
Irritation prodded at Elijah. "Other possibilities? Well, it makes a great deal more sense than thinking that Thomas just _happened_ to be out wandering at that time of night, and Stephan just _happened_ to be roaming the city, doesn't it?"  
  
"Agreed. But there are other, equally plausible scenarios to the one you described."  
  
"Oh, really. They are?" Elijah watched Daneel, chewing slightly on the stem of his pipe.  
  
"Some are too similar to be worth mentioning - I include them merely because they are slight variations." Elijah would not want to hear them all, he knew. Human beings never did. "An example of an unsimilar alternative would be that the motive was jealousy."  
  
"Jealousy? A rated man jealous of the status of a yeast-worker?" Elijah raised his eyebrows, still chewing on his pipestem.  
  
"No, Friend Elijah. That would be most implausible. But relationships occur between people of different rating, do they not?"  
  
Did Daneel think Elijah had overlooked something so obvious? He had checked Cynthia's file as a matter of course. "Are you suggesting Cynthia had a relationship with Stephan? Not very likely. She was as much married to her job as she was to Thomas. She was at work a great deal, or traveling - almost always in the company of others, so don't try to imply that her devotion to work was a smokescreen for an affair."  
  
"Then that is not a plausible scenario, no." So why had Elijah assumed Daneel was suggesting it? Did he not have faith in Daneel's abilities? Perhaps he thought he did not know Earth society well enough. Well, that might be true, certainly. "But the motive could still be jealousy."  
  
"How?"  
  
Curious. Daneel would have thought that much was obvious. "Stephan and Thomas could have been in a relationship."  
  
Elijah's first reaction was offense, and his mouth opened to let the pipe fall out into his right hand. He tucked it away out of reflex, smoothly and quickly, but in that short period of time, the offense changed into an emotion a little more appropriate for a robotic blunder - not to mention what it implied about Daneel's creators. He chuckled. "I don't know what you _Spacers_ get up to, but Earthmen don't do that."  
  
Humor was a skill that did not come easily to robots, and Daneel was no exception. He had no idea what his friend found so funny. "Don't do what, Friend Elijah?"  
  
Elijah's chuckle evaporated. He was going to have to _explain_ this. "Have homosexual relationships."  
  
"Homosexual?" Daneel had to pause a moment as he retrieved the word from long-term memory. "Ah, yes; an outmoded term for same-sex relationships." Daneel frowned again as a multitude of other references for the word rushed to him. It had been coined to separate the praxis of same-sex sexual relations from that of from sex between people of opposite sexes. It had been used to segregate an entire sub-section of humanity based solely on their sexual preferences. Exceedingly odd. There was nothing, unsurprisingly, about its use and connotations on contemporary Earth, however. "You do not have them?" Many cultures had denied the existence of same sex relationships, or even desires. This would help narrow things down.  
  
"Daneel, it's just not done." Elijah felt discomfort even mentioning the subject, and he rubbed his sideburn with a forefinger. "It's like talking in the Personals, or walking Outside."  
  
"I see," Daneel replied, thoughtfully. That was a rather ambiguous answer. He wanted to get to the bottom of this - few things made Elijah ignore a logically sound hypothesis.  
  
"The Medievalist angle is our strongest one," Elijah said, firmly.  
  
Daneel considered this supposition. There might be something he was missing, he well knew. Even the extensive viewing he had done about Earth culture was no substitute for actually being here. There were so many things that were not entered into book-films, and a whole host of others that were simply not made available to Spacers. But then there was Elijah's emotional aura. He was decidedly uncomfortable with regards to this topic, and while that tickled Daneel's First Law imperative, it was also a strong indication of a societal taboo. He would have to approach this in a subtle, round-about manner. "But there are people who talk in the Personals, are there not? Despite the fact that it is something one is expected not to do?"  
  
"No." Elijah shifted uncomfortably. He hoped he would not have to talk about _this_ for long. "We once caught a man for murder because he wasn't willing to talk in a Personal. These are things that are just not _done_."  
  
Which would lead to a conclusion Daneel would have expected Elijah to have come to on his own. This must be a strong taboo indeed. Slowly, he said; "But Friend Elijah, if someone was to desire something that is 'just not done' - would that not be motive enough for murder?"  
  
"You don't understand." Elijah stood "It's not that the _deed_ isn't done. _Desiring_ the deed isn't done!" He put his hands behind his back, turning a bit so that he would not face Daneel. He felt a vague, itching discomfort. "Besides, we have no evidence for this."  
  
Such complete disregard for logic and reason would have shocked Daneel, had he been capable of being shocked. As it was, he merely determined that he would get no further with this line of inquiry for the time being. He watched Elijah as he rise. "What other evidence do you have?"  
  
"Very little - but that's what I'm heading out to get. Before the new Commissioner starts hounding me to."  
  
"So there is a possibility you might find evidence for either hypothesis, or perhaps others?" Surely Elijah had not forgotten this basic fact?  
  
Elijah felt like he was explaining detective work to a child. What had happened to Daneel? He was not this... oddly dense when they had worked together before. "There's always that possibility. That's why we look. But I will say that the possibility of your hypothesis is hovering close to nil."  
  
"If you say so, Friend Elijah," Daneel replied, carefully.  
  
"I do. Do you want to come with me, or do you want me to find you a guide to show you around the City?"  
  
Daneel stood, looking into those familiar eyes again. He was incapable of forgetting a face or a feature, but this one seemed particularly pleasing to him. Was he about to make an aesthetic judgment? Doctor Fastolfe would be pleased. "I would prefer to accompany you, if I may."  
  
"Yes, come with me." Elijah walked to the door, that same discomfort making him restless. He noted that Daneel followed him at a precise distance; not too close, not too far, never changing. It seemed almost calculated for his comfort - which it almost certainly was, and _that_ irked Elijah. It only reinforced Daneel's robot nature. He nodded woodenly to those of his co-workers who looked at him curiously as he walked by, to all appearances with a Spacer in tow.  
  
Because he so obviously looked like a Spacer, Daneel made sure to play the part. He smiled politely, but allowed a certain measure of arrogance to shine through. It would not do to seem conspicuous.  
  
Elijah walked to the stairs and began to walk down them. "The first stop," he said quietly, "is to see Jenian Weatherby."  
  
"All right, Friend Elijah," Daneel replied, following. "What is Weatherby's involvement in the case?"  
  
"None, I hope," Elijah said, tightly. "She's a friend of my wife's."  
  
"I see. How is Jessie?"  
  
Something seemed almost obscene about Daneel - a _robot_ \- inquiring after his wife. Elijah's voice was flat. "Just fine."  
  
Daneel looked away. There was so much about Earth he did not know. It was quite unsatisfactory to keep making mistakes such as this one. If only interstellar relations were such that information could flow freely between the two societies. It would do wonders for facilitating conversation. "If I am reading your tone of voice correctly, I have offended you somehow, or asked an improper question. For that I apologize - it was not my intention."  
  
Elijah tried to shove that topic into the past. "Jenian was in her Medievalist group. I never told anyone. She's harmless enough."  
  
"And it is your hope that she might have knowledge of whether Linkslighter was a Medievalist too?"  
  
"Yes. Unlike Jessie," Elijah could not help emphasizing that, "I believe Jenian stayed with the Medievalists." He trotted out of a corridor onto a feeder and swung onto a slow-moving strip, noting that Daneel followed with ease, and moved quickly from strip to strip. Daneel, as before, more than matched his skill. In fact, one glance showed the robot supporting a young tomboyish girl who was being too cocky and trying to move faster than she was able; he took her by the shoulders as she teetered. Elijah started to caution Daneel about touching children on the strips, but stopped. Daneel did not look like a robot, after all. The girl certainly did not seem to think so, giggling at him as she did. Well, why not; Daneel was undeniably handsome. No, humaniform Daneel would not be subjected to the same hijinks that traditional robots were. Elijah wondered what had happened to the children these days. Certainly, he had run the strips when young, and had risked his own neck and those of his followers. But they had never wantonly destroyed property and caused trouble, as the strip runners did these days. No, in his day, it had all been about skill. He had been good, very good; the only one who had ever kept up with him... Elijah pushed that train of thought away. It was not a good topic to reminisce over at the best of times, and this was not the best of times.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Daneel noticed that Elijah was about to speak. He looked at him attentively, but nothing was forthcoming. It could not have been important then, he decided, promptly looking away again.  
  
"Let's go." Elijah disembarked, moving to slower and slower strips. Daneel, of course, followed him without difficulty. All of these "of courses," Elijah reflected. Of course Daneel was better on the strips than he was. Of course he was taller, stronger, handsomer, more intelligent. If he had the capability of becoming a better detective.... Elijah clamped down on that thought.  Not here, not on Earth, at least...  
  
The pair walked through a maze of corridors and stairs, all of them as familiar to Elijah as every other place in the City. It felt like home. A huge, living, humming home. Even the poorer districts like this one, where those with 1 and 2 ratings lived. He stopped in front of a door and knocked. Daneel, all the while, kept a measured distance. Elijah listened patiently to the sound of someone using the door-viewer. After a pause, the door opened. Elijah smiled at the woman who opened it. Jenian looked as she always did - short, skinny, and homely. Jessie always insisted that the homeliness was due more to attitude and upkeep than nature, and that Jenian would be very pretty if she tried, but all that Elijah could see was that her homeliness was profound. "Hello, Jenian," he said.  
  
Her voice was raspy and high-pitched, no more attractive than her face. But she clearly loved to see Elijah. "Oh, Lije!"  
  
Daneel smiled a measured smile, unfamiliar as he was with this woman. Her mental aura was frayed and hard to read; there was stress, a host of insecurities, and a dull, ever-present fear. He could not tell of what.  
  
Jenian looked curiously at Daneel. "Who's that, Lije?"  
  
"A friend of mine. Jenian Weatherby, Daneel Olivaw." Elijah held his hand out to Daneel as he introduced the robot who looked like a man.  
  
Daneel held out his hand. "Good to meet you, ma'am."  
  
Jenian reached out tentatively, taking Daneel's hand. "Ooh!" she squeaked as their hands touched. "Nice to meet you!"  
  
As Jenian had turned away, Elijah indulged himself in a slight roll of his eyes. Jenian was not immune to the charms of anything male - certainly not the tall, handsome man that Daneel appeared to be.  
  
Daneel recognized the gesture, but did not see what it was meant to refer to in this case. He had no way of judging what was or was not appropriate behavior for an Earth woman of her rating and social status. He looked back in confusion before turning his attention back to Jenian.  
  
Jenian looked at them both through an uncomfortable pause. "Oh - come in!" she said, finally, and scuttled back inside.  
  
Elijah walked in, motioning to Daneel, who followed. Her sparsely furnished greeting room had an exit to a small bedroom; they were the only two rooms in her apartment. Elijah remembered his days as a C-2, and was grateful that they were behind him.  
  
"Would you like somethin' to drink?" Jenian piped up as they walked in.  
  
"I'm fine, Jenian..." Elijah looked at Daneel, instinctively, before remembering that the robot did not need to drink.  
  
"No thank you, ma'am," Daneel said with a slight smile.  
  
"Oh, all right. Sit down! What can I do fer ya, Lije?" She sat on a small, hard chair.  
  
Elijah sat on one end of a small, shabby couch. Daneel sat at the other end. Elijah cleared his throat. "This is all off of the record, all right, Jenian?"  
  
Jenian's eyes widened. She sat up, looking intently at Elijah. "What's this all about? Off the record? What record?" She glanced at Daneel, who sat with his hands in his lap, passively observing.  
  
"It's about the Medievalists," Elijah said, quietly.  
  
Jenian replied, quickly, "I don't associate with 'em no more! I'm a good gal."  
  
Elijah knew how to keep his voice soothing and measured; he had a great deal of use for that skill. He did so. "Jenian... that's why I said, off the record. I promise you this will go no farther than this room."  
  
Jenian glanced back and forth between them. "What about 'im?"  
  
Noting Elijah's manner, Daneel composed his features to look reassuring. Fastolfe has said he was getting rather good at that.  
  
Elijah wondered if bringing Daneel had been the greatest idea. He looked far too obviously like a Spacer, and Elijah himself would not speak openly in front of a Spacer. But he did not let any of that show in his face or voice. "Him, too."  
  
Jenian shifted. "I don't want to talk in fronta 'im."  
  
Her words nudged at both First and Second law potentials, and Daneel found himself wanting to get up. "I can assure you, ma'am," he began, "I am not here to inconvenience or allow you to come to harm in any way. However, should you feel more comfortable talking to Elijah without me..." In keeping with his cover, he adjusted his look to appear somewhat hurt, though still assuring and well-meaning.  
  
Elijah waved off any potential motion of Daneel upwards. "Jenian, trust _me_ when I tell you that you can trust _him_."  
  
Jenian huddled back into her chair. "What's this all about?"  
  
"Did you hear about the murder this morning?" Elijah asked.  
  
Jenian jumped, putting her hands to her mouth. She squeaked, "No!"  
  
The sound of a distressed human voice stilled all other mental activity, and Daneel froze for a moment, every part of him intensely focused on Jenian. When it appeared she was all right, other thought processes slowly returned, as though they were afraid of rushing things. A First Law imperative, even a false one, always left him with a sense of urgency.  
  
Jehosephat, Elijah might have guessed that she would not take it well. He leaned forwards, taking her hands and pulling them gently away from her face. "It was a man named Stephan Linkslighter. He was killed in a corridor in the City. I just want to know if he was a Medievalist." Jenian had calmed a little as he touched her, but she stiffened at the mention of the name. Out of the corner of his eye, Elijah could see Daneel looking at them, paying close attention.  
  
Jenian spoke in almost a whisper. "Yeah. He was. Came to our meetin's now and then. But he wasn't a good one, lots said. He sometimes had these things to do, or said he did, and wouldn't be at the meetin's. I think that's why he volunteered for..." she stumbled to a halt, her hands going to her mouth again.  
  
There was the information Elijah had come for - but that last bit was critical. He had to get it out - and get it out without disturbing Jenian to the point where she would refuse to speak. He felt like he was pulling teeth without anesthetic. Very quietly and calmly, he asked, "Volunteered for what?"  
  
Jenian's voice was muffled by her hands. "I dunno, I dunno... just somethin'. They asked for a volunteer, and he agreed. That's all I know. Don' ask me more, I dunno!"  
  
Elijah looked over at Daneel, feeling rather triumphant. All of this supported his own theory rather well, not that perverse nonsense Daneel had been spouting. But Daneel's distress seemed more profound than the distress of someone whose theory did not pan out - and it hit Elijah. First Law. Jenian's own distress was disrupting the smooth flow of Daneel's positronic pathways. With a quiet sigh, Elijah walked next to her chair, crouched down, and took her shoulders, patting them in a soothing manner. "It's all right. Like I said, this won't leave this room."  
  
"Might I ask a question?" Daneel asked suddenly. First Law potential was still nagging at him, but it equated to a mild state of alert rather than a full-on human-in-danger warning klaxon. Elijah looked at him, and in his eyes and mental aura Daneel detected an understanding of the cause of his distress. This was a satisfactory turn of events - Elijah would know why acted as he did, and would help facilitate things, if he could.  
  
Jenian sniffled. "I don' wanna answer more..."  
  
Elijah rubbed her shoulders more firmly. "At least listen to it. You reserve the right not to answer." He was not sure if he said that to reassure her or warn Daneel. For that matter, why was he allowing this? Well, perhaps Daneel had picked up on something important she had said that Elijah missed. The thought rankled.  
  
Fear radiated from Jenian's mental aura like the harmless residual radiation from Daneel's internal power-source. First Law took him, and Daneel stood. "I do not wish to disturb you further."  
  
Jenian noted that she was the only one sitting and stood, defiantly, but not terribly imposingly. Elijah kept his hands on her shoulders, letting himself stand almost between her and Daneel.  
  
There was that forked path again, his choice now compounded by First Law incentives and the interest he sensed from Elijah. It was not quite an order, but it tickled his First and Second Laws in different ways. Daneel turned his eyes towards Elijah in the hope that he would understand the need for a clearer instructions.  
  
"Spit it out," Elijah grated.  
  
That was enough. "Did Stephan ever mention a man named Burner? Thomas Burner?"  
  
Jenian paused, shrugged, and shook her head. "Nah, but I never talked to the guy, yeah? He wasn't real outgoin'. And I didn't take a likin' to him. He smelled like yeast."  
  
Daneel nodded. "Thank you."  
  
Elijah patted her shoulders. "We'll leave you alone, now. Thank you."  
  
"Yeah," Jenian replied, wiping her nose and forcing a very fake smile.  
  
Elijah walked out of the door, pausing to wait for Daneel. The robot followed him quickly. As the door slid shut, Elijah walked a little way up the corridor before turning, with some degree of satisfaction. "So, how are our respective theories doing now?"  
  
"I would say nothing has changed much, Friend Elijah."  
  
Elijah shook his head. "Really? We know Stephan is a Medievalist. We know he volunteered for some kind of mission. And he never mentioned Thomas. I'd say mine is doing just a bit better, wouldn't you?"  
  
Indeed, Daneel would not. "We do not know if he mentioned Thomas. Jenian did not speak with him, nor could she remember if he had spoken about him in public." He was glad to have this chance to observe the effect this societal taboo was having on Elijah's powers of deduction, but it was also slightly disconcerting to see his friend in thus diminished. Perhaps if he could fully understand the nature of the taboo, he could find some way to countermand it?  
  
If Daneel was intent on _dis_ proving every alternate theory, he would never succeed as a detective. You cannot prove a negative, merely build up evidence against it. Jehosephat, a robot of all things must understand that! "Yes, and he didn't speak about Spacer assassins, either, but I'm not going to hold much on what wasn't said. I care about what _was_ , and we have two strong data in favor of my hypothesis."  
  
"Partner Elijah, I think you may have misunderstood my question to her. I did not ask to find out if he had spoken about Thomas. I asked to see if he had _not_ spoken about Thomas. Given the view of same-sex relationships in Earth society as you just explained it to me, it would seem unlikely that a person in a relationship with another man would mention or talk about him in public."  
  
Ah, so he was _Partner_ Elijah once more? Elijah gave in to the urge that had been dogging him all day. He took out his pipe and tobacco pouch, measuring tobacco very carefully into his pipe. "The dog that didn't bark in the night, eh?" He put his pouch away, pulling out his small steel lighter. "Daneel, you're dealing with a near-nil probability that a dog existed in the first place. Of course it wouldn't bark if it weren't there!" He lit his pipe with a small tongue of blue flame.  
  
"You did not mention any dog, Partner Elijah," Daneel said with some confusion.  
  
"Just a reference," Elijah said, with a sigh. Spacers must truly hate the Earth if they have not even kept Sherlock Holmes in their culture, he reflected. He pulled in a lungful of smoke, exhaling it with pleasure. "We have a perfectly good motive. Why are you trying to prove another one on top of that - one that's almost certainly impossible?"  
  
"I am merely exploring every probably avenue, Partner Elijah." As Elijah was not.  
  
"He wouldn't talk about Thomas if they were... together. But he wouldn't talk about Thomas if he didn't know the man at all, either! There's nothing probable about that avenue."  
  
"And he did not know the man?"  
  
Elijah spread his hands. "What evidence do we have that he did?" He put his right hand back on the bowl of his pipe and sucked in another lungful of smoke.  
  
"As far as I can see, Partner Elijah, as much as we do that he did not know the man."  
  
Elijah considered the stubborn machine, then let a wry grin creep across his face. "You know - there was a time when tobacco was carcinogenic. Back before the genetically engineered crops. If I were smoking some of _that_ , would you be forced to knock the pipe out of my hands?"  
  
"Of course, Partner Elijah. It would have caused you harm." Even the thought sat uneasily in Daneel's mind.  
  
"Even though it would cause me withdrawal pangs to _not_ have it?"  
  
"Smoking it could eventually lead to fatal illness. That would be far worse than transient discomfort."  
  
Elijah nodded. Daneel could indeed think ahead to possible scenarios and judge probable outcomes. Elijah had seen it before, but it was still fascinating. It was fascinating, Elijah realized as he sucked in another lungful of smoke, because it implied the ability to form scenarios that had not occurred. To _fantasize_. This had to be something unique to Daneel, among the robots. Unfortunately, that talent had now gotten them stuck on this strange whim of Daneel's. Elijah exhaled his smoke with a "Right." He pointed his pipe at Daneel. "You know what? Let's check Thomas's meal ration use."  
  
"His meal ration use?"  
  
"Well, if he was having this nonexistent affair with a yeast grower, he couldn't have eaten in his home district all of the time. Yeast-men get looked at with suspicion in the City proper, as I said. Thomas would have had to do the traveling." Elijah looked at Daneel steadily. "If he ate all of his meals in his home-district, will you get off of this tangent?"  
  
"I do see some flaws in your logic, Partner Elijah, but I agree that it is a sensible thing for us to check." Thomas could have gone without a meal or two, precisely avoid suspicion - it would not have meant a significant strain on his health. And Thomas was an E-5, who could frequently eat at home. He could pick his meal up at his home kitchen, and eat it wherever he liked. These points were minor in Daneel's considerations for the moment, however, compared to the fact that Elijah seemed to have opened up to his hypothesis. It meant his mind was not so rigidly set that it was unable to change in this regard.  
  
Elijah shook his head, sucking in through the pipe. "I think Fastolfe built in an obsession with the perverse."  
  
It was rare for Daneel to find no reference or meaning whatsoever in a statement, but this one left him with an odd sense of blankness. "Perverse?" There was the taboo, but Daneel did not want to have sex with men. Come to that, would he even be considered a man by the Earthers?  
  
"Perverse." Elijah took another lungful as he realized that he would have to _explain_ the concept. "Things that... most people..." he struggled, then found a good phrase. "Things that violate societal norms."  
  
After some consideration, Daneel found the only such thing that might apply to himself. "Like speaking the Personals? I will not attempt to do so again."  
  
"All of that." Elijah saw the last of the tobacco burning away; he exhaled his last pull on the pipe as a French inhale, trying to eke as much joy out of the pipeful as he could. With the continual reductions in rations, he wondered how much longer he would have any tobacco at all. Going without was not a prospect he looked forward to. He walked to the communal trash can, an unobtrusive rectangular depository on the wall, and knocked the dottle out of the pipe. In a moment, garbage robots, barely sentient non-humanoid things, would collect any residual tobacco on the ground. Though, of course, this being the C-2 section, that 'moment' might be rather a long one.  
  
"Do not worry, Partner Elijah. I will not embarrass you." He was not able to, but it was a turn of phrase, a polite gesture. And furthermore, Daneel _wished_ to say it. As they were alone, and he was in what could be termed a relaxed frame of mind, there was no particular tone to his voice. Being with Elijah somehow made him so.  
  
Elijah looked around sharply, staring at Daneel for a moment. That tone would have meant something in a human. But no, it was just Daneel. "Fine. I'll call into headquarters and ask," he could not keep the distaste out of his voice at the name of the new clerk, "R. Godfrey to collect the meal ration information." Finally, they could lay this whole distasteful theory to rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Elijah threw the sheet of paper that R. Godfrey had given him onto the desk. He locked his hands behind back, striding as best he could in the small space. "It proves nothing."  
  
Daneel stood with his hands behind his back, watching Elijah pace. His friend was clearly distressed; this was evident even without the evidence of his vibrant aura. "How so, Partner Elijah?"  
  
"He ate a dinner elsewhere now and then." The more likely possibilities were legion. "It could have been with friends. He could have been having an affair with another _woman_ \- you have to admit that it's more likely."  
  
"Given societal norms, yes, but there are even fewer facts to support that supposition."  
  
Elijah shrugged. "This isn't a case on Thomas's marital fidelity. It's about murder."  
  
A pleasing turn of events! He had not expected Elijah to shed his prejudices so quickly. "I am glad you agree, partner Elijah. And so, speculating if Thomas had an affair with a woman is besides the point, is it not?"  
  
"As is speculating on an affair with another man," Elijah grated. "Never mind all of that. We have more data. A yeast worker came forward to say that he saw Stephan slip a yeast tine into his bag as they were preparing to go home."  
  
"One would have assumed that was where he had gotten the tine from, yes."  
  
"Yes, we did assume that. Now we have proof. We don't need much - we just need enough to wrangle a confession out of Thomas." Thomas's means of knowing of the plot was still the only point on which Elijah was hazy. He did not believe that Thomas would simply wander the halls at night. It was not forbidden, but it was not socially accepted, and Elijah knew well that the latter was the stronger incentive.  
  
"Surely his fingerprints were on the tine?" Stephan's fingerprints on the tine, as well as the fact that he was carrying it when he had easy access to them at his place of work would sufficiently indicative that he had, in fact, taken it. There would be no reason for anyone to keep such an instrument on their person unless they were planning to use it for something other than its intended use.  
  
"Yes, but that's in keeping with the story he's given. I believe he's guilty of murder. But if he did it to protect his wife, that mitigates his guilt." Elijah paused in his pacing to face Daneel. "If we can make him believe that _we_ believe that, he might come clean."  
  
Elijah's mistake was negligible, so Daneel ignored it. He did note that it was not the type of mistake normally made by the plainclothesman, a fact he filed away for consideration later. "What does he believe at present? Does he still keep to his story?"  
  
Elijah shrugged slightly. "Last we checked, yes, but that was when I read the report. When you came by."  
  
It would be interesting indeed, to see this man, Daneel pondered. Much could be gleaned by reading his aura too, no doubt. He was surprised Elijah had not suggested it yet. Perhaps he should himself? "Partner Elijah, might I see him?"  
  
Elijah quirked his mouth. "I was going to suggest a visit."  
  
Daneel's pathways ran smoothly once again. He should not have doubted his friend's abilities. "Then we are in agreement."

 

* * *

  
  
The cells at the Central Prison were stark, but not unnecessarily unpleasant. The one Thomas Burner waited in was small and plastic, but clean. The cot on which he rested, his head in his hands, was the only furniture in the cell; it was also small and plastic. The room was depressing more for its status as a cell than by any stereotype of darkness or dankness that the idea of cells evokes.  
  
Elijah was not, by nature, the infallible, tough-as-nails, commanding plainclothesman of legend. He therefore knew the importance of pretending to be; making a confident entrance, taking control of a situation immediately, making his voice the only one it was possible to believe. He therefore strode into the cell, wearing as much of his rank as he could stuff into a walk, his hand pointedly on the blaster at his hip. "Thomas Burner!" he said, loudly. Thomas looked up. His eyes were red; he looked ten years older than the picture on his sheet, although it was current, Baley knew.  
  
"Yes?" he croaked. He was a tall man, and would have looked healthily athletic had he been ten pounds or so heftier. The ill-fit of his excellently tailored suit spoke of recent weight-loss; it bunched unattractively as Thomas hunched over. He gave the vague impression of a depressed vulture.  
  
Baley stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, one hand on his blaster, the other on his own hip. He could feel Daneel walk in behind him, watching. "Murder and self-defense are very different things, Thomas Burner."  
  
"Don't I know it," Thomas mumbled.  
  
"But murder in defense of another is not _exactly_ the same thing as murder, either - is it?"  
  
"I wouldn't know." There was anger in his voice, and something else - confusion? That could indicate innocence, but it might as well be uncertainty about how he should lie. "I'm not a law-man."  
  
"No, you're not, are you. But I am." Baley walked a little closer, hunkering down a little to look Thomas in the face. "And I _know_." Daneel was still watching the proceedings as though it was the best etherics show in town. Elijah wished he wouldn't _stare_ so.  
  
Elijah watched coolly as Thomas looked at him, exuding misery. "Fine. What do you want from me?" There was no anger now, just tired resignation.  
  
"I know that the Medievalists had plans against your wife, Thomas Burner."  
  
There was no humor in Thomas's laugh. "You and the goddamm rest of the City."  
  
"And I know that you killed Stephan Linkslighter to stop those plans." Elijah frowned. He hated people who swore. It was vile. It was filler for when someone could not think of something halfway intelligent to say.  
  
Thomas sighed. "I killed Stephan. I admit it. It was an accident."  
  
"You impaled a man by accident?"  
  
"Yes." It was a snarl more than a word. "That can happen when there's a struggle with a pointed stick involved."  
  
Elijah held his eye. "And you just happened to be wandering the halls."  
  
"Yes. What of it." Thomas pushed out his lip stubbornly.  
  
Elijah did not move. "You do that a lot? Are you observing the lovely spectacle of the robots emptying the waste-bins? Enjoying the dimming of the lights? That's about all that goes on in the City at night. Most citizens are inside, sleeping. With their _wives_."  
  
"I have trouble sleeping," Thomas said, wearily.  
  
If he did not have trouble before, he certainly would now. "Why is that? Why didn't you see a doctor?"  
  
"I have," Thomas muttered. "They say I just need to stress down, take some days off. But I've had my quota of vacation time this year, so I just have wait it out." His short laugh was almost amusingly forced. "Guess that won't be a problem anymore."  
  
Elijah did not move or break eye contact. "Don't give me that. Don't give me that I-was-just-wandering-the-corridors-for-my-mental health."  
  
"Why, is that a common defense these days?" Thomas sniped.  
  
"No. Most people know better than to even try it."  
  
The agitation in the room made Daneel stir. The two men's anger and frustration hung like a thick smog in the tiny cell. His mechanical body tensed, preparing to jump into action should anyone need to be protected from harm.  
  
"You have a lot to lose, Thomas," Elijah continued, firmly. He could feel the man slipping. He had to keep him in reality, in consequences, in choice. "Do you want to be declassified? Work out in the yeast vats for the rest of your life? Or would you rather come clean and just spend a few months in jail and knock a few grades off of your rating?"  
  
"If I may?"  
  
Daneel's clear voice interrupted smoothly, and Elijah turned to face him, irate. The robot had broken the atmosphere he was attempting to build up. Elijah started to say so, but bit his own tongue. It was done, and there was nothing to be gained by arguing in front of the prisoner. Daneel waited, patiently, and Elijah finally let go of his tongue and said, "What?" quietly.  
  
"Sir..." Daneel turned to Thomas, "do you love your wife very much?"  
  
What little had been left of Thomas's smooth E-5 facade vanished in the blink of an eye. He straightened up, shooting Daneel a look of pure disgust. _Spacer_ , that look said, Elijah noted. No surprise there. Many highly rated citizens despised the Spacers for pushing them further down, as it were, on the social ladder. What did it matter how high a rating you had when there were rich, eternally beautiful long-lived supermen whom you could never best? If Thomas belonged to that demographic, that would certainly be something to consider in the case. "Now what kind of a question is that?" Thomas raged. "Damn straight I love my wife, mister! Married her as soon as we were old enough to apply for a permit. We had just gotten one for a kid, too; we're still young enough for that."  
  
Elijah crossed his arms, frowning. The man was getting quite agitated. His carefully honed accent less voice began to slip, now and then, into the common dialect of the City. Daneel was likely harping on his bizarre theory, but his questioning, delivered with his robotic calm, might help. Elijah watched.  
  
"You would do anything to protect her, then?" Daneel asked, carefully observing the visible and - to the others in the room - invisible changes in the man.  
  
Thomas asked, warily, "What's yer game?" He looked at Elijah. "Who is this guy?" he asked, indicating Daneel.  
  
"Answer him," Elijah said, flatly.  
  
Thomas hesitated. "Well, that's a no-brainer, isn't it? Of course I'd do anything for her. And yes, I know what that sounds like. But I'll tell you what; I don't care!" His voice rose as he spoke, and by the end of it he had half-risen from the cot. Standing there with his fists clenched, he seemed to realize what he was doing, blinking a few times as though dazed by a sudden, bright light. After a pause, he sat down again, awkwardly. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, though still slipping into New York-speak. "It was an accident. I already told ya. And yes, I love my wife. Now would you leave me the hell alone? I'll take what's coming to me."  
  
Elijah stepped forward again. "And you don't care about what will happen to her if you're declassified. That's what will happen if we say you murdered Stephan. Give us something to work with. Do you really think she'll keep her position if her spouse is convicted and sent to the vats?"  
  
"I'll release her from the marriage-contract," Thomas said, desperately. "She's damn good at her job, that's gotta count for something?"  
  
Elijah looked down at Thomas. He probably was a handsome man, when not stuck in a cell, accused of murder. As it was, his clear-cut features seemed dull and lifeless. Grey, like the tufts of hairs at his temples. "It doesn't matter what you do _now_. You were married when you committed the crime."  
  
In a move that was almost spastic, Thomas tore at his hair, his teeth gritting. For a moment Elijah thought he may finally have lost the man, but Thomas quieted down eventually. "It was an accident."  
  
"Prove it. Tell us what really happened." Elijah continued to stare. _Break_ , he almost willed at Thomas. _Break, man, and confess!_  
  
Thomas was shaking a little. His hands were all over the place, gesturing at things and people that weren't really there. "I told you! I told you everything.... we struggled; there was this sharp... I felt the blood. Oh hell, the blood!" The last word spat out of his lips as he collapsed into a fit of crying; the helpless, desolate crying of a lost child.  
  
Daneel stirred. The emotions in the room were becoming blurred to the point where he could no longer distinguish between them. This was most disturbing, considering that the last clear reading he had gotten from Thomas was a feeling of intense desperation - of being without options, having nowhere to turn. If this progressed, he might even hurt himself.  
  
Elijah felt any sympathy he might have had for the man start to slip away. If he had known of a plot against his wife, he had nothing to lose by saying so. Holding on like this - he must have been out for some illicit purpose, and held that as more important than his wife's well-being, more important than truth. Just another petty monster of a man. Elijah felt his face go blank. "You didn't tell us everything. Why were you _there_? How did you know he was coming?"  
  
Thomas muttered to himself, shivering. That appeared to be all he had to offer for the moment.  
  
First Law potential tingling, Daneel put his hand on Elijah's shoulder and softly said, "Partner Elijah... He seems distraught."  
  
Elijah looked at Daneel. "Really," he said, flatly. Yes, First Law would make Daneel care for the welfare of any human. Even a murderer. Daneel cared as much for this foul-mouthed wretch as he did for Elijah. He _had_ to. Elijah pulled away from Daneel and crouched in front of Thomas, his hands on the man's shoulders. Thomas was trying to focus, and Elijah tried to make himself the object of that focus.  
  
Thomas's emotional radiation was garbled and murky, almost unreadable. Saturated with First Law, Daneel turned to Elijah, almost plaintive. "Partner Elijah..." At times, he reflected, the ability to read emotions was a much a hindrance as a help. It made him aware of harm-potential that might never come into existence, hampering him in situations other robots would experience no difficulty. Then again, what could be wrong with something that promoted First Law?  
  
Elijah ignored the robot nursemaid, willing Thomas to look at him. "Why did you eat away from your home district, those nights your wife was at work late?" Yes, Daneel's strange ideas had made Elijah cross-check that, as much as he was able. "How did you know who Stephan was? You knew him already, didn’t you?" Daneel's hypothesis was making horrible, chilling sense. Elijah wanted Thomas to disprove it. To give some other explanation. Any other explanation.  
  
"Accident," Thomas insisted, through a series of coughs and chokes. He wasn't looking at Elijah. He wasn't looking at anything.  
  
"Jehosephat. You keep saying accident. You’re on a narrow strip that’s moving fast, my friend."  
  
"What do you want me to do," Thomas barely managed to get out, "lie?"  
  
"No, I want you to start telling the truth. How did you know Stephan would be there?"  
  
Thomas was sobbing now, in a rather disconcerting way. It was something born not of sadness, but some other, more primitive emotion. "I didn't!"  
  
Elijah stood and let go. "Well, if that's what you want. It will be great consolation to your wife when she's lost her position to know that you stick to a story so well."  
  
Daneel voice, loud and forceful, sounded as he rose. "Partner Elijah, this man is very distraught. That can be a terrible strain both physically and emotionally."  
  
Elijah strode away, towards the door. "You're so _kind_ to think of the well-being of the murderer." Anger was welling up in him, at Thomas's pointless stubbornness, at Daneel's indiscriminate _caring_.  
  
Daneel stayed for a moment, looking at the shivering man in the corner. He had killed someone, yes; possibly murdered him. If so, he should be punished. So said the laws of Earth. That did not mean he was not a human being, was not subject to the protection of First Law. So said the Laws of Robotics. Denying that would be like denying the color of his eyes or hair, or the fact that gravity prevented him from floating away into space. That did not mean Daneel approved of his actions. Why could Elijah not see that? Pondering this, he followed his very human friend and partner to his office.  


* * *

  
Elijah turned as soon as Daneel walked in and closed the door. "I would certainly think that the prospect of losing his rating and his wife losing her position would be enough to make him confess to... what you are proposing, wouldn’t you?" He sat at the desk, irate. "I will write it as I originally conceived it. Killing to protect his wife. It'll go easier on him if he goes along, but I can dig up enough evidence to sustain it."  
  
"Why would his wife lose her position, Partner Elijah? She was not involved beyond being the intended victim."  
  
"No, but there's a certain..." Elijah drummed his fingers on the desk, "taint to corruption. It isn't logical, but it's predictable. Just as if I had blown the case on the murder of Doctor Sarton, my family would have shared my down-grading."  
  
"A certain taint," Daneel said, thoughtfully. The concept had no logic to it, and seemed so serve no productive purpose. It did serve to enhance the social stigma of committing a crime, but surely Earth society would suffer more from losing productive members than it would from crimes they may commit in the future, particularly when they were not statistically likely to commit them.  
  
"Yes." Elijah pulled his pocket computer out from his desk. He would have to make a list of leads to follow up on.  
  
"And now your family is sharing your new status."  
  
"Yes, they are." Elijah shuffled through the papers on his desk, noting names and locations.  
  
"Your system is certainly different from ours," Daneel said, neutrally.  
  
Elijah looked up. "Really?" he said, pouring as much sarcasm into the word as he could. Spacers and Earthmen were different? Yes, they needed a hyperintelligent robot to figure that out, did they?  
  
The sarcasm was lost on Daneel. "Oh, yes." A significantly larger population would need a more complicated system to support itself, of course, but so many of the details of Earth's system seemed to Daneel redundant, nonsensical, illogical or all of the above.  
  
Elijah smiled slightly and started to move his fingers through the magnetic field on the computer, shaping an itinerary. "Sorry your time off was so... unfruitful, but not all cases can be wrapped up so neatly." He looked up to see Daneel sitting down on the edge of his desk in a very human gesture. The robot's stance was almost self-consciously humaniform. It was disconcerting.  
  
"Why did you ask him if he knew Stephan?" It had surprised Daneel during the interview. It did not fit Elijah's resistance to the idea of a relationship between the two men.  
  
Elijah shrugged. "Well, that's the loose end, isn't it? What he was doing wandering the halls at that time of night."  
  
"Yes, indeed. And you still do not find my suggestion plausible?"  
  
Elijah sighed. The robot had a monomania on this theory. "It doesn't matter, Daneel. The man won't talk. So we'll hang this on the Medievalist assassin being caught by the spouse. I'll bet my position on it."  
  
Daneel turned to look at Elijah, one hand resting on the desk. Elijah had turned back to his computer, tapping away at it. It was of a type Daneel had only seen in book-films, and even those had been more efficient models. So much of Earth was stagnation, he reflected. There was so much wasted potential. What would not someone like Elijah, for example, have been able to achieve in Spacer society? "He was telling the truth, you know."  
  
Elijah shook his head. "He just happened to be wandering the halls? And you know this how?"  
  
"That, I cannot be certain of. But it was an accident."  
  
Elijah stopped typing, looking up at Daneel. "Oh, yes - your built-in cerebroanalyzer." A surge of panic rose in him, and he pushed it down. Daneel could not read minds. He could only determine generalities of states of mind, and the probabilities of truths and falsehoods. "I keep forgetting that. But it’s not admissible as evidence."  
  
"Sadly, no. But perhaps it could still be of some assistance to you?"  
  
"How so?" Elijah leaned back, putting his computer on the desk.  
  
"If it was an accident, then it follows that it cannot be premeditated. This narrows down his potential reasons for lying in the rest of his statement." Daneel paused, but Elijah merely looked at him with interest. "There was another strange discrepancy. He lied when he told me he loved his wife, but he was telling the truth when he said he would do anything to protect her." His emotions had been strong at the time, and there had been a hint of trying to disguise them. But he could not have know about Daneel's cerebroanalyzer, could he? Another puzzling facet to the picture.  
  
Elijah looked at his arms and frowned. "What are you getting at? If he doesn’t love his wife, why would he..." Elijah plowed to a halt, a new thought coming to mind. "Because she had something he loved."  
  
"I do not understand, partner Elijah," Daneel said, confused. "Don't husband and wife have shared assets?"  
  
Elijah felt the urge for another smoke. He pushed it aside. "Yes, but you can’t share a child."  
  
After a slight hesitation, Daneel echoed the word. "A child..." There were so many of them, on this crowded world, and yet Earthers treasured each and every child born, refusing to control their population with anything beyond contraceptives. It was fascinating, and would certainly go some ways towards explaining Thomas's behavior. Earth people did not behave rationally when their children's safety was involved.  
  
"Perhaps she's pregnant already, and Thomas is lying to protect the child." It made some sense. He would still want to protect his wife, even if he did not love her.  
  
"That would give him motive, would it not?"  
  
Elijah pondered, then shook his head. "No, it still doesn't hang together. Lying about wandering the halls," he said, reflectively.  
  
In Elijah's current emotional make-up Daneel saw an opening; the man's curiosity and professional pride seemed to have fought off the need to preserve societal norms. Perhaps now he would be more receptive to the ideas he rejected earlier? "Partner Elijah," Daneel began carefully, "you told me earlier today about a man who got caught by the police because he would not speak in the Personals."  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"What if a man had done something just as bad as, or even worse than, speaking in the Personals. To what lengths would he go to prevent that knowledge from coming out?"  
  
Elijah ran his finger through the cleft in his chin. "You keep harping on that." But Thomas was in his early thirties. He did not have the excuse of being reckless and unknowing as teenagers did. Young boys might let a word or two slip in the Personals when they were still new to the Men's, after their time spent as prepubescents in the chatty Women's personals with their mothers. But they learned, quickly, as Elijah had. Just as young boys... Elijah shook his head again.  
  
There was a shift in Elijah's aura, a closing in; a hint of remorse and pain. Daneel could not read or analyze it accurately, and so he did not try. His communications link to Spacetown sparked into sudden life, and he slid off of the desk to stand upright. It was time to go.  
  
Elijah caught Daneel's eye. "But none of it matters. If..." he shook a finger, "even _if_ it's true, it's all moot anyway. There's no evidence that we can use."  
  
"That is certainly true." Daneel paused. "Doctor Fastolfe is requesting my presence. May I take your leave and rejoin you later?"  
  
Elijah said his farewell to Daneel and watched the man leave. No, he watched the _robot_ leave. The robot who, thank the stars, could not read minds. He could not know about the unpleasant memories his hypothesis had evoked. They had not been unpleasant at the time, to be sure. James... something. Elijah could not even remember the boy's last name. But the boy had hung with Lije through a particularly intense strip-run that had crossed the city twice. Everyone else was left far behind. The cops had caught wind of the ridiculous lengths Lije had been going to in order to shake James, and had come after the boys. Jehosephat, they had run the strips well enough to shake the _cops_. Lije had lead James down to the old motorways to wait until the chase died down, and there they had stopped to rest, breathless and laughing. They were hanging onto each other, and with all of the poor sense of teenage boys, they had kissed and fondled in the dark - neither quite sure of what they were doing, but both enjoying the sticky mess they had ended up creating. They had returned to that spot, twice more - but the third time that Lije tried to lead them there, James had looked at him with disgust and hopped back on the strips. Of course, Elijah had learned in good time how wrong it was, and had almost managed to forget it all. But no, Daneel had brought the subject up.  
  
If that was indeed Thomas's motive, Elijah would not hold back. The man was too old to claim ignorance. He had no excuse.

 

* * *

  
  
Jessie harangued Ben gently about getting ready for school. He was at a lassitude-heavy stage of teenager-hood, and needed rather a lot of haranguing. She had time, though; she would not be able to use the bedroom sink until Lije was done shaving and brushing his teeth. She had just sent Ben into his room to get his shoes on and his satchel packed when the doorbell rang.  
  
"Who's that?" Lije called in from the bedroom, his voice muffled by toothpaste.  
  
Jessie answered the door, then stepped back in surprise at the tall, handsome, dark-skinned man who stood outside, a faint, polite smile on his face. "Oh. Mister Olivaw." Jessie struggled to maintain her equanimity. She did not trust that robot. She could not exactly put her finger on why, but he tingled her women's intuition. And he was on Earth! At their home! She had breathed a sigh of relief when Lije's Spacer case was closed - partly because she thought the robot was being shipped off of the planet, or turned off, or... _something_.  
  
"Good morning, Jessie." Elijah Baley's wife did not like Daneel; he did not need a cerebroanalyzer to see that. His memories of their time spent together was enough, coupled with her body language and tone of voice, both of which she tried to disguise. Using her first name and thus implying intimacy was one of the ways in which Daneel knew to diffuse such tension. It was not without risk. She might well resent the implication, and become even more hostile. It seemed, however, not to have made matters worse, at any rate.  
  
Jessie worked at making her voice polite. "Are you here to see L... my husband?"  
  
"Yes, I am. I'm sorry to have come at such an inconvenient hour. However, my schedule is somewhat tight."  
  
Elijah stepped out of the bedroom, mopping his face with a towel, his shirt over one arm. "Who is..." he paused at the sight of Daneel in his entry room. "Oh. Hello, Daneel."  
  
Daneel gave a very friendly smile. An impulse to do so struck whenever he greeted the Earthman. "Hello, partner Elijah."  
  
Jessie noted her husband's surprise. It was a very mild surprise, not one in keeping with seeing someone who he thought was off of the planet. She was going to have to talk to Lije that evening. He was not telling her a thing or two. Her voice was frosty as she said, "I'll just leave you two. Make sure Ben is getting his shoes on." She turned on her toe and walked into Ben's bedroom.  
  
"What is it, Daneel?" Elijah was suddenly conscious of his half-dressed state. He pulled his shirt on.  
  
"How is your case going, partner Elijah?" Daneel was pleased to note Elijah looked healthy. He knew his friend would eventually sicken and die, much sooner than the Spacers with whom he associated, but it seemed to Daneel that having this happen later rather than sooner was a much more satisfying prospect.  
  
"The Thomas Burner case? I picked up a little more evidence." Elijah ran his finger up the magneto-seal that closed the front of the shirt.  
  
An interesting turn of events, all things considered. "What kind of evidence?"  
  
Elijah finished tucking his shirt in. "I found out that one of the strip implementation engineers who worked under Thomas is a Medievalist. He was convicted of some minor public disorderliness in connection with one of their riots some years ago. He liked his boss, and was quite talkative when I spoke to him. He thinks he mentioned something about Thomas being cautious in the next few days, some days ago. Split loyalties, you see. So Thomas _did_ have a reason to wander the halls. And to cover it up - to protect a good employee."  
  
Daneel nodded. "That would seem to fit perfectly, partner Elijah." All very logical. Assuming the facts checked out - which was very likely, as Elijah always checked these things thoroughly - the case would seem solved. All in all, a satisfactory conclusion. It would be interesting then, to see what Elijah would make of what Daneel had to show him later.  
  
Elijah smiled, then glanced at Ben's door. He had not missed Jessie's frosty manner. Whatever it was that was bothering her, he did not have time to deal with it. "Let’s head out to my office, shall we?"  
  
"Certainly. I have something to show you when we get there that you might find of interest."  
  
Elijah picked up his blaster and strapped it on, then pulled his ident-case off of the side table. "Really? What?"  
  
"Something not without relevance to your case. We can discuss it further there."  
  
"Not without." Elijah walked out of the door. "I love that phrase. You could just say it's relevant, you know."  
  
"Yes, I could."  
  
It was clearly a statement, no layers behind it. Once again, Elijah reminded himself that sarcasm is lost on a robot. He walked down the corridor towards the strips. "How long are you here?"  
  
"Assuming deconstruction goes according to schedule, I will be leaving tomorrow at midnight." He and Fastolfe would be among the last to leave. A few others would remain, and then, finally, there would be only robots. And then nothing more. Only Earth people. Like Elijah.  
  
Elijah sighed. "Not much time here, then." Daneel could be maddening, but he readily confess to himself that he enjoyed the robot's company. He had such a strange perspective on the world. It made Elijah _think_.  
  
"No." Daneel looked towards Elijah, calculating scenarios in his mind of what life would be like for his friend with Spacetown gone. With Daneel gone. "I am glad that there was, nevertheless, time enough for me to see you, my friend."  
  
"Briefly. Still, better than no time at all." On impulse, Elijah reached out and squeezed Daneel's arm. Daneel watched the squeeze with friendly curiosity. Well, of course. Affection was as wasted on a robot as sarcasm was. Elijah pulled his arm back. "Well."  
  
"It would have been nice to have you visit my home at some point, partner Elijah."  
  
"Your home?" Elijah asked as he walked towards the strips. Home? Robots owned property on Spacer worlds?  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I thought you lived with Fastolfe."  
  
"I do." Nothing much had changed since Daneel had last been in the City. There had been upkeep, trivial changes in the colors of facades, blinking signs and storefront displays. Daneel took it all in, wanting his recording of these final moments of this, his presumably last visit to the planet, to be as complete and accurate as possible. "He often talks about you."  
  
Elijah stepped onto a strip, Daneel following close behind. "Does he. What on Earth does he have to say?" He did not think Spacers had anything to say about Earthmen aside from how offensive their presence was.  
  
"He finds you interesting."  
  
Elijah laughed as he walked to faster strips. Interesting. Such a perfect word to cover a huge range of responses, without offering any real offense. Such a First Law word.  
  
Daneel looked at Elijah, seeing every detail of the way his feet and legs moved, copying it perfectly. "As do I."  
  
Elijah's laugh stopped. He could laugh off how Fastolfe thought of him, but Daneel - finding him interesting? In a way that would merit a dissection, perhaps. "Interesting."  
  
"Yes. For myself, I find that the time I spend with you is most educational and agreeable." The pathways of his mind seemed to flow more easily; he judged himself to be more energized, though his energy levels were at a constant optimum unless there was something wrong with him. Yet, there it was; when he was with Elijah, Daneel found himself functioning better.  
  
Elijah looked at Daneel, pondering that comment. _Agreeable_. That was perhaps the most emotionally connotative word Elijah had heard Daneel use with respect to himself. Could a robot's positronic pathways create a sensation that would be a parallel to human pleasure? When did the distinction between the electrical currents of the positronic brain and the electrical currents carried by sodium and potassium in his own brain break down? Was Daneel actually capable of something as basic as _liking_ another human - or was the preference of one human over another too un-First Law? Elijah suddenly realized where the strips had taken them, and rushed to leave the strips before they had flown past police headquarters.  
  
Daneel followed at same measured distance as before, down to the micrometer, as Elijah made his way to his office. and closed the door behind him. Elijah turned, but did not sit. He wanted a better view of Daneel as the robot reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch. It was digital, in an intentionally retrograde styling, as well as Elijah could tell from where he stood.  
  
"I took the liberty of speaking with some of the garbage collection robots that had patrolled the area around the scene of the crime. One of them had picked up this." Daneel handed it over.  
  
Elijah took it from Daneel and inspected it, turning it over and over. The watch was common enough, but there was an inscription on the back. In simple writing, it said, "To Stephan, my enduring love." Elijah looked up to find that Daneel was looking at him. Elijah could quibble about how it might have been entirely unrelated to the case, but that instinct that told him what was relevant and what was not sounded in his bones, telling him that this threaded very neatly through the homicide. "I can find out where it was bought, and who engraved it."  
  
"I have no doubt you can, partner Elijah." He was very good at his job, Daneel knew. He had solved this case, had he not? This was merely an added detail.  
  
"And if I do - well, Thomas might not have to worry about the case anymore. He would be convicted of a different crime, but the penalties would be societal, not legal. He would lose his rank and his social status, and his wife and child would likely lose theirs, as well." Elijah bit his lower lip and released it. "On the other hand, if I tell him the story his underling gave, Thomas might take that as an out."  
  
"They both may be true."  
  
Elijah shrugged and put the watch in his pocket. "Well. Truth is what’s written up in the report. The rest is speculation." Thomas was not the only one who had made a bad decision in his life. He was only human, and humans were imperfect. Like Elijah.  
  
It seemed such a waste, for a society to treat its people like that. "Would it really be so bad?" Daneel said, a touch more softly than normal. "For Thomas and his wife?"  
  
"I don't know for certain. No two cases are identical." Elijah felt his voice grow bitter. "Men have lost everything for less." His father, after all, had not jammed a sharp spike into another man, or gone behind the back of his mother to try to be with another man.  
  
Daneel studied him. The vibrant, violent swirling of emotions in his aura was not visible on his face, hid to everyone but Daneel. But Daneel was the only one here. "I do not see the logic in it."  
  
"There is not any logic in it."  
  
Daneel considered that. "Then perhaps there should be."  
  
Elijah sat and thought about logic. "Too much logic isn’t good for humans, I think. Logic would dictate that we'd," Elijah thought of inhuman, logical ideas, "well, kill the infirm, for starters."  
  
Daneel pointedly said nothing. While Elijah might come to understand the reasoning behind Spacer ethics and morals, he would not agree with them. This understanding without agreement - so very human. Daneel let him go on.  
  
"Take reproduction away from how we do it naturally. Breed children with sperm and eggs specially selected to be disease-free and possessed of wanted traits, and mixed together."  
  
Daneel remained silent. What would happen, he wondered, should Elijah ever visit a place like Solaria, for example? He tried to calculate an answer, but nothing came to him.  
  
Elijah smiled as he carried the thought through to its _logical_ conclusion. "Grow them in big communes with only people who have been screened for the position as guardians." He shook his head. "Jehosephat, love is probably the least logical thing humans have - and it's the best thing we have, as well."  
  
"So I am told," Daneel said, rather quietly.  
  
"No, you wouldn’t know, would you." Elijah stuck his hands into his pockets, feeling the watch. Daneel was perfectly capable of evoking love. He had evoked it in Jenian, almost immediately. He had evoked some kind of feeling in Elijah, as well. Love? No, but a certain friendship, even an affection. Something that Daneel would not be able to return. Steady brown eyes Daneel looked at Elijah.  
  
"That is one of the things I find interesting about you, friend Elijah. There are things I cannot know firsthand. But you can. And I can learn." And he _wished_ to learn, he found. He was programmed to learn, yes, but these things carried with them an inherent fascination that struck him like a power surge.  
  
Elijah found it hard to look away. Those eyes had such a compelling appearance of humanity, only betraying their robotic nature in the utter steadiness of their gaze. "That's nothing particular to me. Most humans have some kind of knowledge of love. Or are you telling me that the Spacers bred it out?"  
  
"Your emotions are... highly visible. I find that agreeable. Pleasing."  
  
"Visible? And here I thought I had finally managed a decent detective façade." Oh, but Daneel had that system of his, didn't he? How sensitive was it? Elijah kept hid hands in his pockets, not sure what else to do with them. He was suddenly very conscious of his stance, his expressions, his movements, knowing that they were being analyzed, and knowing they might show - well, what he had foolishly yelled at Clousarr. How godlike, how handsome he found Daneel; how intelligent, how _alluring_. The adjectives came with startling ease, once he let them.  
  
Daneel moved a little closer. Closeness was somehow required in this situation. Where this knowledge came from, he did not know. "I will have to return soon. They may need my help with the loading of some sensitive information into the ship's data-banks."  
  
"Ah, well. I would have offered to show you around once I made my report."  
  
"I would have liked that." Daneel held out his hand. A different form of closeness, coupled with the performance of social ritual. The receptors in his hand tingled in anticipation of input.  
  
Elijah grasped the hand. "It's not likely that I'll see you again, with Spacetown gone." He felt a certain paradoxical gratitude at that, as his initial reaction had been a rather significant distress. The machine bred far too much emotion in him. Daneel held his hand firmly.  
  
"That would be a shame, if it were so. Although I agree with your assessment."  
  
Elijah shook Daneel's hand, preparing for the release of pressure that would naturally follow. It seemed to be delayed, and he took the moment to concentrate on the feel of the plastic skin-substitute. It felt just like human skin. It felt just like human contact.  
  
Daneel patted Elijah's arm in a mimicry of something he had seen Elijah do earlier. Another social ritual. More closeness. It was, for some reason, required.  
  
The hand, so indistinguishable from human, on his arm. Daneel had claimed that the only relevant distinction was between intelligence and non-intelligence - but that was an inhuman argument. The difference between feeling intelligence and unfeeling intelligence was just as profound. Elijah was a feeling intelligence, and he was feeling warmth and affection. He had to remind himself that Daneel was not a feeling intelligence, that he _could_ not feel anything like what Elijah did. "You know your way from here?" Elijah's voice was hoarse.  
  
"I always know my way, Elijah." But he did not _wish_ to leave.  
  
"Yes, that’s right."  
  
Daneel let go of Elijah's arm. His hand slid down it, collecting sensory data as it did so. Elijah's aura was shining with confusion, and it made Daneel hesitate. Did Elijah wish him to stay, too?  
  
Affection. It was madness to feel affection for a robot - but it was something far worse to feel it for another man. Elijah swayed internally between those two unacceptable states. It was a quandary that would only be solved when Daneel left. "Go ahead. Fastolfe is probably going crazy wondering where you are."  
  
"I am sure he is fine, but yes. I should go." The verbal near-order simplified things. He should go. It was true. Daneel turned and walked to the door.  
  
Elijah watched Daneel leave, his whole universe boiled down to the moment when Daneel would leave the office, leave his life, and Elijah would not have to worry about this quandary anymore. But no - he _would_. The thoughts and memories would not leave him alone, he knew; they would dance about in his head, surfacing intermittently to interrupt his work, until he resolved them.  
  
Daneel turned and looked back. "I wish I did know, Elijah." He opened the door. He would leave now. This would end. It would take him considerable time to process it all.  
  
Regretting his curiosity even as he spoke, Elijah asked, "Know?"  
  
Daneel hesitated, sensing regret and a certain unwillingness to know the answer from Elijah, but the opposite was also true. How could the human mind work with such conflict? "How to love as you do."  
  
"Yes. Well. You don't." Elijah sat.  
  
He did not understand. How could he understand? He could not, unless Daneel explained it to him. Yes. That was what needed to be done. What was required. Daneel closed the door, and walked over to the desk. "Do you know how I was programmed, Elijah?"  
  
"I'm no roboticist."  
  
"You don't have to be. The basic set up was hard-wired into me - the Three Laws, basic cognitive functions, a knowledge base, all of those things. But I learn from experience."  
  
"You would hardly be a good humaniform prototype if you didn't. Or a good detective, either."  
  
He did not understand. The imperative to _make_ Elijah understand flowed through Daneel, becoming his uppermost priority. "But I cannot learn if there is no one willing to teach me." He leaned over desk, gripping the sides; he was still in complete control, but felt oddly disheveled - for him.  
  
The need of an unfeeling intelligence. But if it were unfeeling, why would it care? "Teach you? Teach you what? How to love? It isn't taught. It just happens. At the worst times, often." Elijah pulled the watch out of his pocket and looked at it.  
  
Just a watch. An inferior chronometer. Primitive. How could it hold such importance? "Like Stephan and Thomas?"  
  
"Yes. Like them." Elijah could not tear his gaze away from those dark brown eyes. "You look human. You," he reached out his hand to touch Daneel's cheek, "feel human. But the entire point of a robot is for it to not be susceptible to human frailty. And not to unseat humans, either!" he added, moving his hand to Daneel's satiny hair.  
  
"I am not human." Elijah must not think he was. It would cause him harm. There was, Daneel found, confusion on both sides. "Elijah... I do not understand. I do not understand why I wish to be with you."  
  
Elijah did, finally. "First Law. You can read me, with that cerebroanalyzer you've been outfitted with. You see what I'm capable of. And First Law makes you want to help. Well, don't. It isn't what I want." No normal, decent Earthman would.  
  
Daneel had sensed nothing beyond confusion and unclear, undirected want. "I don't have to be with you to help you. And I want to be with you. I feel... out of sync without you. This should not be."  
  
"Well, tell Fastolfe you have a glitch somewhere. He'll fix that out-of-sync." Elijah made his hand, which had been hovering around Daneel's face, fall. It fell to the collar of Daneel's shirt and remained there.  
  
"I am not certain I want him to." And there was no logic to that. No logic at all.  
  
"Your logic is failing. Stop trying to be human." Elijah's voice was wry, and he was startled that it sounded so much calmer than he felt.  
  
"I am not human," Daneel repeated.  
  
"I know."  
  
"I do not want to be." He had few wants, in all, beyond this; beyond seeking out and being with Elijah, and in such a short time, he no longer could. Daneel stared, taking in the emotion filling the room now, surging into him in all its incomprehensibility.  
  
"Good. You shouldn't." Daneel turned his head towards Elijah's hand; his cheek brushed against it. That contact brought Elijah back to some semblance of coherence. He let his hand fall to the desk. This situation was headed nowhere good. Daneel would think nothing of _indulging_ him. He would think nothing of indulging any human, however; all one had to do was ask. Second Law.  
  
Daneel watched the hand fall. He looked at the desk. It was pleasing. Simple. It had no thoughts, and certainly no emotions. Why could he not form an attachment to _it_? It would be so much simpler.  
  
"Go, Daneel. Go." Elijah's voice was choked. "Second Law."  
  
The order nudged at him to leave, but there was another, much stronger force keeping him there. Daneel's voice was a little slurred. "First Law." Elijah wanted him there.  
  
Elijah closed his eyes, shaking his head. Whatever the robot was reading in his emotional state, it would harm him far more to be _indulged_ than to just let this go. Tobacco, he thought, and considered making the parallel for Daneel. But he did not trust himself to open his mouth. He grasped the desk firmly, breathing heavily. Daneel straightened, as though some internal corrective system had finally caught up with itself.  
  
"Good bye Elijah." Daneel's voice was slurred, mechanical, his systems devoted to processing the delicate balancing of First and Second Law without shutting down. His hands let go of desk as though they had been glued there with cheap paste.  
  
Elijah stood, fully intending to order Daneel out more firmly. Almost as if hypnotized, however, he leaned across the desk, pressing his lips to Daneel's. They were warm, soft, and dry. He spoke against them. "Go, Daneel, please." Daneel's lips moved as Lije spoke; from words or not, it was hard to tell. There was no sound. His hands moved to either side of Elijah's face.  
  
"Your mind..." Such want. It was as though Daneel was experiencing it himself. It was analogous to intoxication in human beings - he _wanted_ more.  
  
"What about it?" Elijah asked, the question as much a reason to move his lips as anything else.  
  
The movement, the enjoyment Elijah felt from it - it was as good as an order. A metaphorical lever was finally pulled, and Daneel kissed him. He kissed Elijah Baley.  
  
Elijah let himself be kissed, feeling some excuse in his passivity. Daneel's tongue was as dry as his lips - of course; what use had a robot for salivary glands? - but was not parched or rough like a human's mouth, when dry; it was some kind of plastic, Elijah knew, but it had a velvety texture, one that thrilled him as it rubbed his own tongue. Elijah was somewhat bewildered at the turn events had taken, but in retrospect, his entire association with the android had lead to this point, as naturally as the light-cycles of the City. He reached out one hand to take Daneel's shirt front. The android's tongue became wet as it picked up saliva from his own mouth, and Elijah finally kissed the android back, licking a mouth that was, if a little dry, as human as any he had touched. As human as Jessie's, and a pang hit him in the viscera. It was not a significant enough pang to dam the flood of emotion that was making Elijah open his mouth wider, however.  
  
A knocking sounded at the door. The Commissioner's voice came through it. "Plainclothesman Baley!"  
  
Daneel's mouth and shirt disappeared before Elijah could come to terms with the interruption. He looked at the door with some desperation, then back at Daneel. The android stood halfway across the small room, his hair neat, his expression impassive, his cheeks unflushed. Looking at him, one would think nothing had happened - and, Elijah realized, nothing _had_ happened, as far as Daneel was concerned. The potential of harm to Elijah from not indulging his strange desires could not match the potential of harm from being discovered indulging them by his superior, and Daneel had responded to the change in potentials. Nothing more.  
  
A chill came over Elijah, and he felt some gratitude for it, knowing that it would suck the heat from his cheeks. He straightened his shirt, breathing heavily.  
  
_Harm_ , echoed the Law-potential in Daneel; _possible harm_. He glanced at Elijah, his own thought processes filed away for the time being. There would be time enough for that later.  
  
"I told you to go." Elijah wiped the saliva off of his lips with his fingers.  
  
Daneel nodded curtly and walked towards the door. He opened it to reveal the Commissioner waiting outside, impatiently.  
  
Elijah tried to arrange himself in a dignified manner. "Commissioner."  
  
The Commissioner looked at Daneel with surprise. "Who are you?"  
  
"Please forgive the delay," Daneel said in his most polite and impeccable manner. "I was engaged in intercourse with the Plainclothesman."  
  
Elijah choked. Someone was going to have to teach that robot the meaning of connotation. Or perhaps, he thought with a faint dread, someone already had.  
  
The Commissioner muttered, too quietly for anyone with hearing not as sensitive as Daneel's to notice, "Spacers." He said, more loudly, "You people are supposed to check in with the authorities when you leave Spacetown. It's the only way we can ensure your safety."  
  
"You have my sincerest apologies. I was in somewhat of a hurry to speak with the Plainsclothesman on an urgent matter, and as I am leaving tomorrow..."  
  
The Commissioner visibly relaxed. "Good, good. Let me assign a robot to take you back to Spacetown."  
  
"That would be most..." Daneel did not really pause, but he took a moment to look towards Elijah, "agreeable."  
  
Agreeable. Agreement. Amenable. It had been _agreeable_ to kiss another man, even if he had not really been another man. Elijah nodded. "Safe journey, Mister Olivaw."  
  
"Thank you, Commissioner." Daneel inclined his head at Lije. "Mister Baley."  
  
The Commissioner barked out into the main office. "R. Sammee! Escort this... gentleman to Spacetown. Then return immediately. Stop for nothing on the way. Got that, boy?"  
  
Elijah sat and rubbed his jaw. He composed himself, thinking about the case, arranging in his mind how he would present it to the Commissioner. It was as reasonable a resolution as could be asked for in so short a time. Yes, back to his job, back to the regular routine. No more Spacers, no more robots. Well, aside from the inanely smiling kind, the kind who were too free with his first name - one of whom was arriving to escort Daneel, who was too free with his desires, out of Elijah's life.  
  
For the best, all things considered, Elijah thought. He would grow to believe that in time, he was sure.  
  
Daneel smiled politely at R. Sammee, in the Spacer way. He was, as he had told Elijah earlier, fitted with a pair of perfectly capable legs, and for the journey to Spacetown, he let them carry him along the path he was pretending to R. Sammee he did not know. Meanwhile he quietly went about reorganizing his memories for long-term storage. _Elijah_ , he thought. And a new, very particular kind of potential stirred.


End file.
